


To Be or Not To Be (Sick)

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal calls in sick (slight spoilers for 5x05)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be or Not To Be (Sick)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "A Word A Day" and its commentators

  
"Hi, Peter?"  
  
"Neal. Where are you?"  
  
"Home. I'm not feeling that well." He was still in bed, trying to sound as sick as possible. "I woke up with a headache, and-"  
  
Peter snorted. Not the response Neal had hoped for. "What?"  
  
"You're malingering"  
  
"I'm- What?"  
  
"It's a new word I've learned."  
  
Excellent. "Do I want to know?"  
  
"You're feigning illness in order to avoid work."  
  
Neal rolled his eyes.  "Beats feigning  _wellness_  in order to  _go_ to work.  Got a word for that?"   
  
"What?"  
  
Neal sighed deeply.  "Never mind."  
  
"I know what you're doing.  You're trying to avoid the Mortensen insurance scandal." Peter had specifically told Neal they were going to close that case today come hell or high water. Neal, oh so typically, had apparently opted for a third option.  
  
Peter did have a point, but Neal wasn't about to admit it. "Peter, that really hurts. You don't trust me."  
  
"I do trust you. I just don't  _trust_  you."  
  
Right. "Does that even make sense to you? Do you really want me to come in sick?"  
  
"No," Peter admitted after a short pause. "But you realize those files will still be waiting for you tomorrow."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks Peter."  
  
"Hm. Well, feel better and I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Neal sighed as he hung up. He hadn't convinced Peter, which meant the agent will be keeping a close eye on him today. Not what he had hoped.  
  
But before he could decide what to do, Mozzie walked in. Whistling 'Whistle While You Work'.  
  
Neal propped himself on one elbow. "What are you doing here, Moz?"  
  
Mozzie stopped mid-stride, realizing that he wasn't alone.  "What are  _you_ doing here?" Neal was supposed to be at work.  
  
"I live here. What's your excuse?"  
  
"Oh." Mozzie stopped to think that one over, finally seizing on a different topic of conversation.  "You don't look that good."  
  
"That's the point."  
  
"Try this." Mozzie rummaged in his jacket pocket and produced a vial filled with brownish liquid. He moved in closer to Neal. "I've been working on a new formula for my honey concoction."  
  
Neal took it and popped it open, taking a cautionary sniff. "Ew! What  _is_  that?!"  
  
"I call it," Mozzie paused for dramatic effect, "Essence of Chicken Soup."  
  
"Ew. Ew." Just the smell was making Neal nauseous.  
  
"I distilled-"  
  
"Moz, I really don't want to know." Neal pushed the vial back into Mozzie's hands.  
  
"It's good for you. It will get you back on your feet in no time."  
  
"You know, suddenly I'm feeling much better." Neal threw the covers off, sitting up on his bed. "See?"  
  
A knock from the door announced June's arrival. "Neal?"  
  
Neal had hoped for some peace and quiet this morning, but he always appreciated June dropping by for a visit. "June, come on in."  
  
"Good morning, Mozzie.  Neal." June nodded to both men.  "Peter called to ask how you're doing."  
  
So much for trust.  
  
"I wasn't sure where you were, but I told him you were sick in bed."  
  
Neal grinned. "You're amazing."  
  
"Only problem.." June hesitated.  "I think I oversold it."  
  
"By how much?"  
  
June smiled ruefully, "Peter might be under the impression you're on your deathbed."  
  
Neal fell back into his bed. "Great."  Knowing Peter, he'd probably be rushing over to apologize.  
  
June considered Neal for a short moment.  "You don't look too bad."  
  
Everybody had an opinion.  
  
But it wasn't Peter who finally showed up.  A few minutes later Jones pushed the door open. "Hey."  He paused at the sight of Neal's guests. "Everything's alright?"  
  
"I was just leaving." Moz announced aloud.  
  
Jones ignored him. "How's he doing?"  He'd been on his way to work when Peter called and asked him to stop by Caffrey's.  
  
"-Better."  
  
"-Worse."  
  
The FBI agent looked at both June and Mozzie. "Right. Caffrey, how you doing?"  
  
"I've been better," Neal croaked from his bed.  
  
"Peter said you were-" He approached the bed, finally getting his first look at the patient. "You don't look  _that_  bad."  
  
"I'm sorry to disappoint."  So this was it.  Peter had sent his agent to check up on him and pick him up for work.  
  
Jones' phone rang, and he fished for it in his suit jacket. "Yeah, Peter. No. No, Caffrey's sick."  Neal glanced at him, surprised.  "Yep." He nodded to the phone. "Right, I'll tell him."  
  
He disconnected the call. "Peter sends his regards."  
  
Neal settled back in bed.  "Thanks, I owe you one."  
  
"Believe me," Jones added with a smile, "I don't want to deal with that insurance fraud case any more than you do."  
  
"OK." June stepped up to take charge.  "I suggest we leave Neal to rest.  I've got coffee and cookies downstairs."  She ushered everybody out.  
  
"Thanks, June."  
  
Neal waited for a few minutes, listening to the footsteps going down the stairs till he was sure that everybody was really gone.  Then he got out of bed.   Malingering.  Right.


End file.
